


a penchant for lost causes

by houseofskywalker



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Doctor Finn, F/M, Fluff, Force-Sensitive Finn, Force-Sensitive Rey, Friendship, I am not a medical professional folks, Medical Inaccuracies, Medical Trauma, Pilot Rey, Romance, Slow Burn, Swearing, it will become clearer further in the story, well sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-09-20 16:30:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9500147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/houseofskywalker/pseuds/houseofskywalker
Summary: Finn is a young Healer at Helsos Medcenter, who's losing hope in the future of the Resistance as more and more of their patients leave the ward in body bags. But Finn doesn't believe in lost causes. Neither does Rey—Black Squadron's newest member, and the ward's newest patient.





	1. Black Squadron

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by jediprompts Finn prompt: Healer Finn comes across an injured Resistance fighter and helps them - could be Poe or Rey.

“Slip, I need some backup!”

“On it, sir!”

“Don’t call me—okay, whatever, just start up the defibrillator—yes, that button, _right there_...”

Slip shook the defibrillator a couple of times and smashed the two handles together until sparks ignited in the space between them. Finn sighed. It wasn’t standard to keep a defibrillator a year beyond its expiry date—it was downright illegal, in fact—but their base had run out of sufficient funds a while back and Finn had to make do with what was available. The patient might encounter some burns, but what did charred skin compare to death? 

“Get ready, Slip. On one, two, three—-”

Without further ado, the defib crashed down. The patient arched his back, pure volts of electricity coursing through his nerves. The printout said nil. 

“Again.”

Nil.

“Again.”

Nil. 

“Again.”

“Sir ...”

“ _No,_ Slip. Amp up the voltage.”

Slip looked unsure, the instrument shaking in his hands. “But—but— _sir_ , that could burn his whole chest!”

“I’ll heal it,” said Finn, distracted, as he adjusted the drip. “Do as you’re told, Slip.”

Slip still wore an expression of doubt and Finn knew he had some choice words of reproach for his supervisor, while Finn’s fists were itching to take the defibrillator and finish the job himself, but both were aware that time was slipping through their fingers like sand. Slip finally nodded and Finn went back to keeping the heartmeter running. He was the only one who understood the language it was in. 

“Nil… Nil…” 

_Come on, man, don’t bail on me._ He prayed to whatever gods there were above as the reading ticked. 

“Nil—no, wait! No, 80! He’s clear.” Finn scribbled down one word onto the datapad by the patient bed, clear and fixed: _stable._

Slip slumped against the bed frame. “I think you’ll need to use those defibs on me next, boss, if we keep getting these near-death cases.”

Finn glared at the young nurse. “You had _one_ job, Slip: always listen to me. I don’t order you around to be a dick, I _know_ what I’m doing.” He rubbed his eyes tiredly, and waved him off. “Go get some caf. I’ll take it from here now.”

Slip muttered his assent and didn’t stick around to hear Finn’s response, slinking off into the corridor. Finn sighed. He had taken Slip under his wing since the boy arrived parentless at the medcenter, shell-shocked and nearly rendered mute by whatever he had seen. There was nothing anyone could do for him, so Finn took him under his wing as his nursing assistant. So far, so good, but moments of hesitation were too close in between. Slip struggled to trust people and he struggled to trust Finn, no matter how much he tried to acclimatise the boy to life on Helsos. All he could squeeze out from him was that he’d escaped from Takodana during the First Order raid, and had not seen his family for several months. 

_A lost cause,_ Jess Pava, his former patient, had said to him. _But you like those, don’t you, Finn?_

Finn stared down at the patient, his face lax from sleep and his chest, thankfully, moving in appropriate tempo. The burns from the faulty defib were first-degree at most, and Finn had only slathered on some bacta this time. He needed to preserve his energy for more extreme cases. Although, ‘extreme’ was rather arbitrary. When the ground soldier was rolled into the ward, his pulse had been so weak Finn couldn’t even detect it in his wrist. This one was _lucky_ , not lost. 

Finn was a Healer: they didn’t believe in lost causes. 

“I’m sick of these budget cuts,” he muttered to himself. “I’m going to set someone on fire one of these days.” Stupid faulty defib. He felt like a monster for still using it. Finn pulled off his gloves and walked over to the sink, washing his hands and elbows diligently before looking up into the mirror. His reflection showed a young, tired man, with eyes hard as diamond which housed infinite sadness.

His tenth patient for the day, and the first one to survive.

“How much longer,” he asked his reflection, “will this last?”

 

* * *

 

“You know, Finn, there’s a transport tomorrow outbound for D’Qar.”

He hummed.

“It’s better funded. The medical ward is—-”

“Hmm.”

Jess' mug crashed on the table. “How about you stop being a sanctimonious prick and consider what I’m saying?”

“I can’t just _leave_ , Jess,” sighed Finn, sloshing his caf around in his own mug. “What if there’s another battle and we have a crisis on our hands? I can count the number of doctors in this medcenter on one hand, and we’re a _medcenter_!”

“D’Qar’s got star equipment, the best of the best from the Republic, before they got blown up. You can snatch some; you’ve been working with some pitiful outdated equipment and frankly, I think it’s doing more harm than good at this point.”

“Listen, I’m not denying that.” He wasn’t. She was absolutely correct. “But D’Qar’s five days from here. I can’t just disappear off-base for nearly two weeks. Send someone else.”

“Slip, then—-”

“Not him.”

“ _Why_?”

He rolled his eyes. “What happens if the ship's captured? Slip isn’t trained to withstand torture. You send him and he’ll come back with our equipment and an entire battalion of stormtroopers.”

Jess chewed on her lip. “I’ll talk to Kalonia. Maybe she’s got any doctors to spare.”

“She doesn’t, but go ahead.” Finn sipped from his caf. “Things aren’t looking great these days, are they?”

“Their Starkiller really did a number on us. No Republic, no political shields. We need a miracle.”

“What we need is the Force,” said Finn, gazing out into the flimsy transparisteel. Watching the nothingness of space made it hard to believe that several lightyears away, a battle of some sorts was happening. Black Squadron was called up days ago, Jess had told him. Poe Dameron, her Commander, had notified her via comlink while she was recovering from her injuries.

An ominous feeling dropped in his stomach when he found out. The Resistance’s casualties were rising day by day, and Finn was waiting for the other shoe to drop. It wasn’t enough. They needed the Force.

Jess made an impatient sound. “You sound like General Organa, with her “trust in the Force” bantha fodder. The Jedi are gone, Finn.” She looked down at her mug, frowning. “Luke … Luke Skywalker is gone. What we have are our pilots, ground troops, and people like _you_ and that’s good enough.”

“I know,” he smiled. “And I am eternally grateful. After all, it was one of you, Dameron, who got me out of—-”

“SIR!”

Finn snapped his head around, frowning as the harried form of his assistant jogged towards his table. “Something wrong, Slip?”

“New,” he heaved, “new arrivals, sir. Pilots. Around six of them. They’re in pretty bad shape.”

Both Finn and Jess jumped up, giving each other worried glances.

“You don’t think …” Jess’s face paled.

Finn put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Stay calm, Jess.” He turned to Slip. “Callsign?”

“Black Squadron.”

* * *

 

There was a flurry of activity in the ward.

Healers and nurses milled around the newly-occupied beds, jumping from patient to patient. Finn immediately made his way to Dr Kalonia, while Jess, he noticed from the corner of his eye, quietly conversed with a dark-haired figure prone on one of the hospital beds. From the Commander patches on his jacket, Finn gleaned it was Poe Dameron and a smile curved his mouth—there was time to catch up later.

“Doctor,” he called. “Where am I needed?”

Dr Kalonia’s sharp brown eyes scanned Finn from head to toe. She nodded towards the far-end of the room. “Last bed. Human female, brunette, has been unresponsive ever since she rolled in here. Several cauterised wounds.”

Finn frowned. _Cauterised?_

“Was she treated before she arrived?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

Oh well. That was not important. The cauterisation might have stopped the bleeding, but if this girl’s wounds were too deep, he’d have to prepare a skin grafting. “On it, doctor.”

As Finn walked down the aisle, the sounds of the people rushing about slowly muted until he felt like he was in a soundproof bubble, cut off from the world around him. _The girl_ , he reminded himself, trying to shake himself out of it. _The girl, the girl, the girl._

Finn stared down at the unconscious form of his patient. Her face was marred with bruises and cuts, and the fabric on her knees and arms were burned away to reveal deep wounds. Some were ragged and others were precise circular burns.

Yet she looked peaceful. And she _was_ peaceful, Finn knew. He felt it in the Force. If it was left to her, she would never awaken from her deep trance.

He had to wake her up.


	2. (No) Progress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finn catches up with an old friend, and things aren't as bleak as they seem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long wait! But now I'm back in swing, and ready to start writing! Most of this chapter is solidifying the relationships/friendships in this fic, as well as the plot overall, but our rey of sunshine might make an appearance ... Stay reading!

Finn sat at his new patient’s side. Rey. Rey was her name, and she still hadn’t moved a single muscle, not even a twitch in her mouth or of her eyebrow. She was deathly pale, and if it wasn’t for the tick in her wrist, as consistent as that of a hummingbird, Finn would’ve pronounced her dead on the spot. 

Dr Kalonia had joined him, and silently watched as he took all her vitals. She did this often. He was an experienced Healer, but she was still his supervisor and Finn believed there was always something to learn from your elders, no matter how many years in the field he’d weathered through. And while he would normally appreciate her presence, he knew she was here for a different reason entirely.

“It’s a Force thing, isn’t it?” he muttered. 

“I don’t think you need me to tell you that.”

She was right. Rey’s presence in the Force was illuminating—he would’ve felt it several star systems away. And not because of her individual power, not _per se_ , but this instant connection which thrummed between them. Was she aware of it? He’d wager that she was. Her physical presence was dormant, but her consciousness was now hovering in the spiritual plane. She would stay there forever, unless he found a way to coax her back.

He tentatively skidded across her mind. In an instant, a wall of sheer will rose and blocked entry. Finn retreated, frowning. She didn’t want to come back.

“What _happened_ to her?” His hand reached out to touch her bandaged shoulder, where the circular burn was treated, but he pulled it back at the last second. “These aren’t the result of a crash. These are _personal_.”  
  
Kalonia’s eyebrows met in a displeased frown. “Commander Dameron told me she was targeted by the Knights of Ren. The leader, in particular.”

“Kylo Ren,” Finn said immediately. “Why _her_? Who is she?”

“Not much is known about her. She appeared on D’Qar one day, and the General granted her refuge. Apparently, she is quite the skilled pilot, there was a spot in Black Squadron, and the rest is history …”  
  
“And now she’s here.” He looked at her once more, hoping to glean her life story from the grooves of her face, the scar across her nose. Rey, like a ray of sunshine. There were tan lines peeking out from under the rolled up sleeves of her hospital gown, the ends of her hair were bleached gold, and he could easily see her disappear in a pulsing crowd at some marketplace on a desert planet.

He closed his eyes. At once, the rest of the world fell away—Dr Kalonia, the other Squadron members, the whirring of the medical machinery—and he opened his eyes to that blackness he was so familiar with. For lack of a better word, Finn called it the ‘void’—a point of connection between two Force sensitives. Due to a dearth of knowledge on Force healing, Finn learned everything through hands-on experience, and thankfully, he’s had Force sensitive patients before. 

He imagined himself taking a step, and the air shuddered. He could go no further. She had set this point as the boundary. 

Finn stretched his hand out, and it bounced off of something invisible. He took a breath. “Hello, Rey. I know you’re there. You can still be saved, it’s not over. I’ve seen your wounds, they’re not that bad, and we can only begin physical therapy once you’re conscious. If it’s emotional pain …” He paused. “I can’t assure you that will ever go away, but you’re not alone. You don’t have to come back right now, but I would appreciate it if you let me in. It must be lonely.”

No response. He blinked, and almost didn’t open his eyes again due to sheer exhaustion. Force, how long had he been on his feet? Finn couldn’t remember the last time he had a full night’s sleep—well, not exactly. It was always night in deep space. And the engulfing darkness around him wasn’t helping.

“I’ll just go now,” said Finn, a tad awkwardly. “But I’ll be back. And we’ll see, I guess.”

* * *

 

Finn waddled towards the cafeteria. The other Healers were still busy in the ward, and Finn had his comlink on hand in case he was needed for assistance, but Kalonia had sent him out and denied entry until he’d filled his woefully empty stomach. “I won’t have a starving doctor wandering around vulnerable patients!”

“I’m not a zombie!”  


“Really? You look like one. Go. You need to concentrate on your patient, and her session is now finished.”  
  
_If you could even call it that_ , he’d thought glumly as he dragged his feet out of the ward. He had made no progress, and while it was still only the first day, the first _hour_ even, Finn didn’t feel as upbeat as he usually did with his other patients. Most other Force sensitives at least _tried_ to contact back on the first attempt. Rey had no intention of doing so.

All thoughts of his stubborn patient left his mind at once when he caught sight of a fully functional Poe Dameron, albeit with a sling, sitting at a table with Jess. “Oi! Dameron!”

“Finn! A sight for sore eyes,” Poe laughed, and wrestled with the back of his chair to get out until Finn put a grounding hand on his shoulder. “Sit,” he rolled his eyes. “You’re going to pull something and I think the Healers have seen enough of you today.”

He sat down. Finn pulled a wicker chair from an adjacent table and flipped it around, making himself comfortable and scooting closer to his friends. “I’m glad to see you in one piece, Dameron.”

“No one is happier than myself,” he muttered. “I’m glad to see myself _alive_. My fighter skidded at least a mile or so before I was finally ejected and flung into a tree. I don’t think there’s anything left of it besides its wing.”

“And everything’s left of you besides the wing,” Jess supplied, poking the hard plaster encased around his arm. Poe scrunched up his nose, and she gleefully popped a fry in her mouth from a bowl of food, set at the centre of the table which Finn only now noticed. He watched them playfully snipe at each other, and smiled. “Don’t take her too seriously,” he butted in. “Jess has been a grouch since you left her here.”

“Not at all.” She glared at him. “Actually, what if I was? You’re not the one with a bust up leg.” To drive her point home, she hoisted her bandaged calve up on the table, her foot dangerously close to Poe.

Poe pulled a face. “Gross, Pava. I’m eating here. And I know you missed me. It’s _your_ scowl I woke up to, after all.”

“I could break a few fingers,” Finn said casually, swiping a fry from Jess’ fingers. “To sympathise.”

“Doesn’t count. You’d heal in a few hours anyway.” She rolled her eyes. “And of course I’d be there, Commander. I’m still part of the squad, even if you guys found a replacement.”

“Temporary replacement,” Poe stressed. “You’re welcome back anytime. Once that leg of yours healed. I mean, kriff’s sake, Pava, the last time I saw you, there were chunks of flesh _missing_ —”

Her jaw set. “I was there, Commander. Excuse me, it’s time for my fill.”

“That would be the third time today, Jess,” Finn sighed. “You can’t have that much morphine. I restricted—”

“I’m aware,” she spat. “I meant my fill of the view. I’m sick of being cooped up in this steel contraption. I need to be reminded that there _is_ life out there.” 

Finn and Poe watched her go with conflicting feelings. Poe sighs, despondent. “Well, that turned sour.”  
  
“It’s hard living here,” admitted Finn. “Cut off from civilisation, no concept of time, artificial air … it’s not for everyone.”

“It’s not that hard for you, though?”

Finn stared at the etched initials in the table. _FN_. “No, I’m used to it. Difference is, I actually _want_ to be here.”

Poe clapped his shoulder with his good hand. “You’re doing great, buddy. As far as I can see.”

Finn rolled his eyes playfully. “I’m glad I have your approval.”

“How’s your little shadow?”  


“Adequate. He’ll make a good nurse. He cares, and everything.”

“And you’re okay being around him?”

“Slip’s fine. He genuinely seemed terrified when they brought him in. And he definitely has a rebellious quality in him, as far as I’ve seen. It’s nice to know I wasn’t the only one.”

“Let’s hope he isn’t the only one, either,” Poe grunted. “The more of them break out, the better. Hopefully, not all will be dropped on your doorstep. You deserve some peace of mind.”

“Are you mother henning me again, Dameron?” Finn teased. 

“It’s all I do nowadays! Try being a Commander, it’s the only way I can keep these pilots in check.”

“I’ll put it on my to-do list after I bust my leg.”

Poe sighed. Finn could physically see the mirth leaving his body, his shoulders sagged and the crow’s feet around his eyes became more pronounced. Jess’ grounding, for lack of a better word, was deeply affecting him. “Look, Poe. If you wanna talk—”

He waved him off. “No, Finn, you look like you’re going to collapse any moment. Take care of yourself for once. I don’t need to check your roster to know that you haven’t seen your bed in a while.”

He couldn’t argue with that. “I’m a Healer, Dameron. I’m not here to sleep.”

“No, but you’re no use to anyone like this.” At Finn’s continued look of doubt, Poe decided to approach things from another angle: “Are you having troubles with Rey? You’re the one assigned to her, right?”

“Sort of.” Finn was embarrassed to admit it. He was supposed to be better than this.

“I figured. A good night’s sleep should do the trick. Remember when I had troubles calibrating my ship?”

An unwilling smile pulled at his mouth. “It left us stranded in the forest for a day, and you kept apologising for your ‘stubborn piece of rust’. I was happy enough that I had _some_ prospect of getting off the planet, to be honest.”  
  
“No wonder you just nodded at everything I said. Well, remember how it only took me a nap to finally get the ignition running and _whoosh_ , we were off?”

Finn scratched his chin. “I don’t think it was quite a _whoosh_ …” He imitated the noise of a broken engine.

“Funny.” Poe gave him a look. “But we did get off the planet, and it was all because I had some shut-eye for a few hours. Imagine the good you can do once you rest that humongous brain of yours.”  
  
Tempting … “Can’t argue with that logic. Fine, fine, I’ll go take a nap.” He patted Poe’s shoulder, careful not too exert too much force. “I’ll see you later.”

“See ya, buddy. I might check up on Jess.”

“She’s most likely on the lower deck, doing some stargazing. That’s where the view is the best.”

Poe’s salute was the last thing Finn saw as he rounded the corner.

* * *

 Finn stretched as he walked into his dorm, his back popping pleasurably. It almost felt like a hunk of steel had been inserted under his skin, forcing him to stand upright for the better of the day, and now he could finally shake it off. He could finally _slouch._ Finn shuffled inside, taking a cursory look around. His room was nothing to write home about, but it was comely and personalised, unlike the cold hardness of his living quarters _there_ … Finn shivered. The mere thought of what used to await him back when he was younger caused chills across his body. He wondered how Slip was  coping …

Finn realised with a curse that he’d forgotten to change out of his scrubs. Oh, well. He would have to ask for another pair, now that these were contaminated. He shrugged the scrubs off and left them on the floor of his bathroom—which could hardly be called that, being only comprised of a sink and a small shower—and slid into his bed. Finn had a bedtime routine, but the only thing on his mind right now was _sleep—_

He blinked awake. That was quick. He squinted, his mouth falling open in shock. Instead of the comforting grey of his ceiling, Finn was looking up at a blue sky, filled with fluffy, pinkish clouds. Something wet was seeping into his back. He grasped around with his hands, feeling the texture of … grass … under his fingers. A shadow crept across his face, obscuring the sun. Sun? There was no sun in space—not where the medical centre was located, at least.

“What … ?”

Suddenly, something hovered in the air, lit up by the orange glow of the star in the sky. His eyes focused and the image of a hand grew clearer. A hand held out expectantly. Finn didn’t question it, he accepted the offering, and felt himself being pulled up from the ground. His eyes grew to the size of dinner plates as he realised who the hand belonged to.

She was only an inch or so shorter than him, and hadn’t let go of his hand yet. It didn’t occur to him to ask for it back, either. Her skin was considerably healthier than he’d seen an hour ago, and there was a smattering of freckles dusted across her nose where the scar was supposed to be. Her hazel eyes looked at him curiously.  
  
She arched an eyebrow. “You called?”

Rey.

**Author's Note:**

> My first Finnrey fic! Reminder: I'm not a medical professional so there could be some inaccuracies.


End file.
